Thorns
by Dawn1000
Summary: Being rewritten
1. Chapter 1

I remember how I died. I can tell you. I was walking back to the dorms at Yale, sipping on my coffee. I was listening to Fall Out Boy to wake me up, and I had the music on so loud I couldn't hear anything besides what was blaring out of my earbuds. You know how when you're a kid your parents always tell you to look both ways of a street before you cross it? You should listen. I wasn't paying attention -though to be honest I should have-, my mind still bleary from exhaustion. I'd been cramming for history finals all night you see.

Anyways, I think you get what happened next; I got hit by a car while crossing a street, something you might read in some kind of trashy fanfiction and yada yada yada. As I felt myself being pulled into... wherever I was going, I heard a voice whisper in my ear.

 _"You have died, young one. But, like everyone who's lived a mediocre life, I can give you a chance to be someone great."_ I wan't sure whether I should feel insulted or not about the 'mediocre life' part. It was true, after all. I felt strangely... calm about being dead. I suppose I'd felt more like a ghost than anything else; kind of floating mindlessy around. _" Do you accept to be reborn, child?"_ I thought about it for a second. I mean, I'd had my whole life ahead of me when I died; why not give it another go? Sure, I'd miss my friends and family but if I was never going to see them again anyways, why not? Determination filled me. I'd made my decision.

"Yes," I croaked. "I accept your offer." Man, if only I'd known the shitstorm I was about jump into headfirst after saying those five, dreaded words.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

I'll spare you the gruesome scenes of my birth for two reasons. A) I never want to relive those memories and B) The scene just _after_ my birth was my first clue as to what time period I'd been reborn into. When I was born, the first thing I felt was the blast of cold air. To my mortification, I wailed, my lungs burning after the action. I heard more crying like there was no tomorrow, but it wasn't coming from me. Despite the pain I was in after being _pushed out of someone,_ I picked up on it. My tiny body froze. If there was someone else crying and it wasn't me... then who was it? It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time for me to realize I might have a twin. As I was swaddled in cloth, a brief conversation ensued. See, I couldn't hear or see well, but I heard some snippets.

"Husband... Sons... No," At 'sons', I froze. _It couldn't be. Fate wouldn't be that cruel_. I took a second to calm down. There had been a resounding no following sons, and it didn't feel as if I had an extra body part, so maybe I was still a chick. Hopefully. Oh for the love of God, please! There was a shuddering sigh, of exhaustion or disappointment I didn't know. If it was the latter and I was a girl then _wow,_ how sexist was that? I perked up as the people around me kept talking. "Girls... Henry... Visit?" Henry? Who the hell was Henry? Was he a relative? I was carried to a woman laying on a bed. I couldn't make out any of her features, but I _did_ see her illustrious mane of auburn hair.

"Mija," the woman groaned. I blinked. My mother had been Dominican in my last life, and I'd been raised speaking Spanish; this woman had just called me her daughter. My mind whirled. Okay, so I knew my mother spoke Spanish. Where could we live? It was possible I was back in the states, the had plenty of speakers there. I could also be in, you know, Spain, or somewhere in the Caribbean. Henry was an English name though and even if England didn't have as many speakers as the previous places I'd listed, it was still a possibility. My head hurt and another body was placed in my mother's arms. My twin -I was sure of it now- nestled beside me and since there was only so much my baby brain could take, I drifted off to sleep. What I didn't know was that after I'd passed out, my parents had named me and my twin. What I didn't know was that during my sleep, I'd lost a chance to get valuable information.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks passed by like a blur for me. I was ashamed to admit that I had to get diaper changes like any other baby, and -to my horror- I was breastfed. In time, I got used to it, but... it was mentally scarring and an overall traumatic experience.

The first time I met my father, I was four weeks old. My sight had gotten considerably better, and so had my hearing. I was being held by my mother, as she'd stopped to visit me and my twin. I was reaching for a lock of my mother's soft auburn hair when a man entered the room. Immediately, my mother's soft blue eyes turned to him. The man was dressed in rich brown pants, silk by the look of it, and a white shirt that appeared to be adorned with a jewel accessory of some sort. My sight still wasn't very good, but I saw his deep red hair and strong jaw. Everyone either bowed or curtsied when he made his presence known. I mentally raised an eyebrow. Unless you were part of the aristocracy, no one really did that anymore. I'd heard the people around me talking in British accents, so at least I knew where I was now. That being said, I was coming to the slow, harsh conclusion that I'd been reborn as a noble. Good God, I'd probably never have a private moment to myself.

"Your Majesty," my mother murmured. "Would you like to see your daughters?" I froze at her words. Currently, England was still under Elizabeth II's reign. But my mother had just called this man by a title you'd only give to a king. So if England still had a queen in 2018, I was either in the future or... in the past. Another thought occurred to me; my mother had just asked if he wanted to meet his daughters. _Shit._ I wasn't just some daughter of a duke or earl. I was the daughter of a king; I was a princess. I saw a face peer down at me, my father's face. He traced my features with a calloused hand, smiling warmly.

"They are perfect, Catherine," he said. Catherine... so that was my mother's name.

"I am glad they please you, Henry," she replied. I bristled at that, offended. "Sons will follow my love," she continued. Okay, so that ruled out the future; in 2013, the British monarchy had decided the first born of a monarch, boy or girl, would succeed them. This whole 'sons will follow' thing was so sexist I _had_ to be in the past anyways.

"I know," my father said confidently. "But twins! God has truly blessed us, even if they cannot inherit my crown!" Now I was getting seriously pissed off. But what the sexist jerk said next sent my anger out the window and shock and then fear in its place. "They will do the house of Tudor proud." Historically, there had been three Tudor kings. But the only ones who survived long enough to have children were Henry VII and Henry VIII. Either way, I was stuck in a sexist, racist, homophobic medieval England as either the sister or daughter of a tyrant who's name was notorious throughout history, even in the twenty-first century. Only one thought ran through my head: _Goddamnit! I want a refund!_ I was also hoping that I didn't end up, you know, assassinated or something. I was honestly a bit betrayed and pissed off that I'd been reborn into such a shitty-ass time, especially for women.

 _When I find you,_ I thought vehemently to the person who'd offered me a second life, _I'm gonna kick your petty ass into next week._


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: What Angela thinks aren't necessarily my opinion. If something offends you, please politely PM me about it. Although some of her character is based off me and people I know, she _isn't_ me. Also, if I owned the Tudors, Catherine of Aragon would get the happy ending she deserves.**

After my original fury at being reborn into Tudor England, fear and worry consumed me. I was living in a time where innocent people were burned at the stake for 'being witches', homosexuals were killed for just being themselves, and s woman's only use was popping out kids. Some part of me thought that yes, maybe, despite my initial horror at the thought, I should have been reborn as a guy. Life would be a hell of a lot easier anyways.

Another problem; I'd been bisexual in my last life. While I saw no shame in that, I had no desire to lose my head because of it. I didn't think you could just drop your sexuality like something out of a Jehovah's Witness video. Anger filled me at the ignorance of the people around me; because of them, I could never completely be myself!

For the next few hours I replayed my parents' earlier conversation, trying to discover more clues as to whether Henry VIII was my father or my brother. I suppose the latter would have been better, I wouldn't be his spawn after all, but it also meant that I'd have to live with him longer. I was falling asleep again when it hit me; God, I was so stupid sometimes! Henry VII had only had one wife: Elizabeth of York whereas his son had -as everyone knows- six spouses. Sine my mother's name was Catherine,unfortunately the second Tudor King _had_ to be my father, but there were two possibilities, one of which I hadn't considered before. The first: I was the daughter of either Catherine of Aragon, who I'd always been fond of, Kathryn Howard, or Catherine Parr. The only problem? None of these women bore twins.

The second option was that I was a bastard; that would partly explain why Henry blatantly said I couldn't inherit his crown. But that was complicated as well because Henry VIII only akcnowldged illegitamite child was Henry Fitzroy. From what it sounded like, the king had already acknowldged me and my twin as his children. I was thouroughly perplexed by my situation, and frusterated as well.

Cally me vain, but in my last life, I had prided myself over my wit and ability to banter. Sure, I hadn't been the sharpest tool in the shed, but I certainly hadn't been stupid, especially when it came to history. The fact that I was _living in history_ but I somehow couldn't figure out my heritage... it was a blow to my pride.

As my twin started wailing, a nursemaid came to hush her. "Please calm, Your Highness," she murmured, humming while she tried to calm my sister. "Her Majesty the Queen will be most displeased if she thinks you are not cared for." Okay. Now at least I knew I was a princess. But this just created a bigger problem; by the time Henry had married Kathryn Howard, he'd already had trouble fulfilling his marital duties and he was bedridden when Catherine Parr had rolled around. Besides, he had still sounded son starved so this was before Jane Seymour. But the only Catherine before Jane had been Catherine of Aragon.

...

...

...

 _Shit!_

Don't get me wrong, I've always admired Henry's first wife. She burned with a quiet fire and she was kind, merciful, and stubborn too with an iron will. But her as my mother meant I'd have to watch, powerless, as she was thrown away like trash by her husband and die miserable and alone; forbidden to even write to her only child for the last six years of her life. Or her two or three, depending on if Queen Mary I was born yet. Speaking of Mary, I'd have to watch as she turned from a young, charming princess adored by all to a tyrant who was so consumed with restoring England to the Catholic faith that she disregarded the innocent lives it would take to do so.

And what about myself? I'd be tossed aside as well. I'd have to epitome of the evil stepmother from Cinderella, except with no happy ending. Don't get me wrong; I greatly admired Anne Boleyn in my last life. She was witty, intelligent, and bold. She played with fire and she got burned. But that doesn't change the fact that her handling of Catherine of Aragon and Mary was absolutely _horrendous._ I still believed she played a key role in fucking her step-daughter up enough that she became known as Bloody Mary. Being realistic, I didn't expect the famous queen to treat me any different when she got the throne.

Despite the danger I knew was looming over the horizon, a small part of me swelled with excitement; I had _adored_ Catherine of Aragon in my last life and now I got to know her personally in this one! I already knew who my favorite parent was going to be. _Maybe,_ I thought, _This life won't be so bad after all._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It'd been five years since I'd been reborn into Tudor England and in that time, I'd charmed every heart in my father's court, even the Duke of Buckingham's.

"Margaret! Margaret!" I heard someone yell behind me. I turned to see my twin, Mary. My heart warmed at the sight of her, dressed in her light summer gown, auburn hair neatly combed, her eyes -so much like our mother's- alight with mischief. "Come!" Mary continued. "Our aunt has arrived with Uncle Charles!"

I stood hurriedly at my sister's words and together we scrambled out of the gardens to greet them. When our Aunt Mary saw us, her eyes brightened. We dropped politely into curtsies; she was was the Dowager Queen of France after all.

"Your Grace," I said, "How do you fair?" My aunt tossed me a fond smile.

"I am most well, Your Highness. As are you, I take it?" Behind us, Uncle Charles made a strangled sound.

"Hello?" he said. "I'm here too you know," I turned to him, shamefaced. After Mary and I muttered our apologies, I turned back to the duchess of Suffolk.

"Do you bring news from court?" I asked eagerly. "Have you any letters from Mother of Father?" My twin wrinkled her nose at me.

"Papa tells you not to be so formal," she reminded. I shifted in discomfort. I'd been American in my first life and using 'English terms' to address my parents felt... odd.

Over the years, I'd grown to adore Mother, as I'd expected, but Father had also wormed his way into my affections. I fully admitted to being self-righteous sometimes. When I gave undoubtedly more attention to Mother than him, I'd seen how it hurt my father. At that moment, well, it was the first time I'd seen him as a real person. As human. I'd began to think of how he wasn't a monster yet, of how hadn't I practically preached about looking at different perspectives of history in my last life? About not judging someone right away? Shame had filled me when I realized the hypocrisy in my beliefs. Yes, he became a murderous tyrant later in life. But he wasn't one now. And who knew? Maybe I could change him.

After that, I'd tried to get to know my father for who he was now, not the person he was supposedly destined to become. I quickly grew fond of him, maybe even loved him to a certain degree, but the fact he would betray Mother, Mary, and me was always at the back of my mind, haunting me.

Our aunt's smile dropped and her face grew pinched.

"I'm afraid you won't see your parents for the next few weeks," she told us apologetically. She didn't say why, but I already knew; the gossip in my household was impossible to tune out. I knew my father had taken a new mistress, although I didn't know her name, and that he didn't want me or Mary to know about her. Anger swelled within me. I'd long come to accept that it was simply a product of the time I had been born into, but I hated knowing how Mother must silently suffer as Father took mistress after mistress, sometimes even flaunting them.

Sometimes, in my darkest moments, I cursed them. _Whores!_ I'd think. _How dare those harlots cause my mother pain!_ I knew they didn't really have a choice; if my kingly father wanted someone, he was going to have her. Besides, even if they could turn down going to the King of England's bed, their families would give them hell for it.

My thoughts were interrupted by Uncle Charles.

"What do you say we go to the gardens and play a game?" he proposed. My sister and aunt agreed, the latter amused, the former eager. I followed them swiftly, trying to rid myself of my thoughts; I was a vain creature, not even I could deny that. But so openly acknowledging my defects... It was unsettling. I hoped for many things. I hoped that Father and Mother would visit soon. I hoped that my tortured thoughts would cease. But most of all, I hoped that if there was a God, He heard my prayers. My prayers that I would, somehow, be able to keep my family from falling apart.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

This was it. This was the day I had been waiting for for almost a month and a half. Father, it seemed, had kept his mistress longer than my royal aunt had expected. But now, he had tired of her, and Mary and I were being summoned back to court.

 _It's about time,_ I thought with satisfaction. Beside me, my sister shifted restlessly, peering through the windows of the carriage.

"Your Highness, please!" Lady Salisbury exclaimed. "Be cautious! It would not do for you to fall out of the window." Mary pulled back, a bit put out, and I laughed at my adorable little sister as my chest constricted with the amount of love I felt my heart fill with. I still remembered the day I realized I was born before Mary.

 **Flash Back**

Mary and I were three when I came to horrifying realization I was the first-born and not my royal sister. Our aunt and uncle had traveled with us to court for Christmas, and we were currently alone in the throne room, curtsying before Mother and Father. Father grinned widely at the sight of us and beckoned us to rise. He stood, Mother following his example. He walked to us, arms wide; Mary and I got the message. We raced into his arms, my sister with more childlike glee and I with still some hesitance despite caring for Father.

"The Pearl of My World!" he laughed. "The Sun of My Sky! How good it is to see you!" Mother watched us from a distance away, a soft smile gracing her elegant features.

I disentangled myself from Father and Mary's arms and embraced her. She drew in a surprised breath, and I knew she was going to reprimand me for nearly tackling her to the ground later, but as I buried my face in her hair, I felt her relax. Mary watched enviously as I guardedly kept our mother all to myself. Father seemed to have gotten used to the idea I favored Mother over him; ever since I began giving him affection, he seemed to think I was closer to Mother simply because we were both of the fairer sex.

Mother released me and embraced Mary just as tightly as she had me a few moments ago.

"Mijas," she greeted warmly. "How I have missed you." Then, my sister, who was beginning to pick up my speech patterns, asked a very valid question.

"Mama, Papa?" they turned their gazes to her at the curiosity in her voice. "How come Margaret got to enter the room before I did?" I froze. After all, Mary was supposed to become Princess of Wales in a few years' time. Why had I, the second born, entered to greet our parents before her?" Mother sucked in a sharp breath and Father looked uncertain. Our mother took initiative, seeing as how Father had lost his tongue.

"You see, my darling Mary," she said carefully, "While you may be betrothed to the Dauphin of France, your sister was born first and is thus your Papa's eldest heir."

My blood turned ice-cold. I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest as I stared at my parents. Many emotions ran through me; horror at the thought that I might someday be responsible for an entire country, and greed at the fact I had a chance to go down in history, but most of all, relief. Relief that no matter what happened, as long as I was alive, Mary would never be known as Bloody Mary. As long as I was alive, Mary would never get a chance to be Queen of England. History might even sympathize with her, making her out to be a martyr, standing against a cruel tyrant for her faith and for what she believed was right.

Hope whelmed within me; I could make this work! I could take the brunt of everything for Mary when the time came; Anne Boleyn, the death of our mother, our own father's betrayal! In that moment, I realized how much I truly adored my little sister. I was willing to take every blow for her, to take everything hurled our way, every smug Boleyn or Howard's snide barb, every threat to take the Oath of Succession, every time our father proved he had really and truly no place left for us in his heart.

I also realized how much I'd changed since my last life. I'd been selfish, arrogant, and prideful then as well as self-centered and vain, Mary was a bright light in my life, the center of my universe. She had, without meaning to, reigned in my selfish, conceited ways. My sister, with her bright smile and warm blue eyes, identical to Mother's. My sister, who'd be destined to become a broken, bitter woman, remembered as a tyrant and hated by all.

 _Damn destiny,_ I thought fiercely. _I'll protect you, I promise!_

 **Flash Back End**

As I rested my head against my palm, I watched on as Mary sulked on the other side of the carriage. Ignoring Lady Salisbury's protests, I stood up, moving to the seat next to my sister. Wrapping my arms around her, my solemn oath from two years earlier came to mind. I still meant every word of it, and, as Mary rested her head against my shoulder, I knew that I'd even die for my twin if I had to.


	7. Chapter 7

After visiting court, weeks passed. Those weeks turned into months and those months turned to years. My bond with Mary was stronger than ever, growing with each passing day. My parents couldn't hide the strain in their relationship from me, although my sister wasn't aware, and every time we were at court, I showed my wit and intelligence to all. I did my best to comfort Mother, and endeared myself to Father, hoping that, if he was to still cast us aside, he would at least show more mercy.

Any time I thought of Father discarding us like we were nothing to him, well, it hurt. I wasn't even angered by the possibility of me being declared a bastard; in my old life, although it was sometimes frowned upon, people didn't make a huge deal about it. Most peoples' reaction were along the lines of "Whatever, who cares?"

No, what hurt me most was how I knew that although Father claimed we were important to him, he'd still break Mother's heart, leaving her to die alone in a pathetic manor by the moors, and leave Mary and I to fend for ourselves after throwing us into the claws of the Howard Boleyn clans.

Speaking of the Boleyns, they were the reason I was seated at my desk, trembling as I tried to pluck up my courage. Mary and I were six now, and while I _should_ be at our embroidery lessons along with her, I had feigned illness and requested to return to my chambers. In truth, I wasn't lying. My stomach churned with nerves and my fists clenched at my sides. My heart raced furiously in my chest and my skin felt hot. I felt a bead of sweat roll from my brow. It was February 19, 1522. Historically, Anne Boleyn had officially arrived at court on March 4, 1522.

I was writing to my father in an attempt to convince him to let Mary and I visit court by that date. I needed to meet her. I needed to meet the woman who would be the one of deciding factors in the first ever European royal divorce. I needed to meet the woman who would play a key role in the Protestant Reformation of England. I needed to meet the woman who would tear my mother from her throne and celebrate her death. I needed to meet the woman who would cause my dear, little sister such agony and sorrow.

The historian in me knew my judgement of the future queen wasn't fair. But this had become personal since I'd been reborn; Anne could have just as easily agreed to become Father's mistress, as her own Papa had pushed her to be, instead of usurping my mother. I'd always sympathized with Mary, right up until she began burning protestants at least, and I'd admired Mother, but now that I knew them personally, well, a dark, twisted part of me despised Anne Boleyn. I hated how she didn't stop Father from harming her stepdaughter. I hated how she'd tried to humiliate my sister at every turn. But most of all, I hated Anne Boleyn because despite after everything she'd done or pushed my father to do, every time she watched on as he hurt Mother and Mary, I still respected her. I respected her and accepted she had deserved to be remembered and God, I even pitied her!

The guilt ate me alive at night, gnawing through my mind like a maggot does through flesh. I rubbed my temples and sighed; I had long ago come to the come to the conclusion that trying to plan for everything was taking a terrible toll on me. Nevertheless, for Mary's sake, for Mother's sake, and for my own, I was still trying.

After handing my letter to a pageboy, I laid on my bed, running a hand through my hair. The little violet band wrapped securely around my right wrist was so the staff and our caretakers could identify me and not mistake me for my royal sister.

My plan was to befriend Anne Boleyn. I would charm her and she would be loyal to me, no one else. Either she would give up on being Queen of England and if need be I could try and replace her with someone like Jane Seymour, or when she married Father she would be determined to protect me and Mary. Either way, Mary would be safe and I was trying to make a plan that would shield Mother as well.

Three days later, when Father's letter said we _would_ in fact be permitted to return to court, I smiled. However, a deep unease ran through me not a moment later; things hadn't even started yet. This was just the calm before the storm.


	8. AN

**A/N:** Look, to all the Anne fans out there, Angela isn't trying to kill on her, and neither am I. I've expressivley stated before that her opinions aren't neccecarily my own. If you have something to say to me, PM me, don't flame my comments. As for anyone who doesn't understad why Angela sees Anne as so flawed and not her mother or Jane, here's the reasoning, although it's ridiculuos I should have to explain this.

Angela fully acknowledged back in chapter 5 she knew women couldn't exactly turn Henry down, and she grudgingly respected Anne Boleyn. She's softer on Jane even though the Seymour does the exact same thing because she's _not looking at this through a neutral perspective._ She favors Jane over Anne because the latter was kind towards Mary, even though the bastardized princess was still going to be a threat to her unborn child if it had was a girl. Obviously it wasn't.

Will Angela's views change? That's for me to know. But her bias makes her a flawed person, as showed in chapter 5 as well when she realizes her judgement of her father aren't yet fair. Also, she still has a hero-worship of Catherine of Aragon, and in this life, the woman is her mother. Of _course_ she's not going to want to acknowledge her flaws, especially if there's been nothing to trigger any displays of them yet!

I can handle people PMing me politely and talking this out, doesn't mean it's guaranteed I'll use them in my story, but hell, they might be good suggestions! Instead of flaming my comments and then calling the people who try and respond politely while sharing their opinions morons is intolerable and if it continues, there **will** be consequences. Yes, share your views if you want in the comments, go for it! But be respectful about it! And this doesn't just go for Anne fans either, I won't allow flames from _anyone_ regardless in my comments. If you guys want to duke it out, that's fine, but PM each other, don't fight in the Thorns' comments. Please and thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

As I laid in my bed, lavish and warm as it was, I felt cold. I stared up blankly at the ceiling above me, one arm propped behind my head and the other toying with an auburn lock of hair. Today was March 4, 1522. Today was the day Anne Boleyn had first arrived at the English Court.

Multiple emotions ran through me; nervousness, anger, hostility, but, most of all, fear. She wasn't supposed to catch Father's eye for another five years, but what if I had miscalculated? If he noticed her any time soon, all my plans would be for naught; I wouldn't have time to form a strong bond with the older woman. This brought me to another problem. I desperately wanted to keep Mother as Queen of England, but Father had wanted his annulment anyways pre-Anne. Every year, her position at court weakened and it was common knowledge my father no longer visited her bed.

An icy coldness swept through me. I loved my mother, adored her even, but if I had to choose between her and Mary, what would I do? It would be like tearing out a piece of my heart. Both were so precious to be on such fundamental levels that I would surely split into two halves. On one hand, if Father still became determined on making Anne queen, there would be nothing I could do. Anne may be more lenient if my plan succeeded, but Father would most certainly not. If this scenario happened, my best bet would be to bend my knee to Father so the brunt of his anger would not be directed towards me or Mary, but it would wound my mother beyond measure. And Mary... God, what would my sister think of me?! I couldn't bare the thought of my sweet twin hating me.

Emptiness ran through me at the thought of Mary being hostile towards me. Clenching a fist, I turned on my side, curling in a fetal position. Thoughts I'd never so much as considered raced through my mind. What if, because of my actions, I made everything worse? What if I had to choose between my mind and my heart? To choose between Mother and/or Mary's safety or their feelings? Who was I to play God in a time that wasn't my own? Who was I to try and interfere with people who stood the test of time as a person who shouldn't exist in the first place?

Unshed tears blurred my vision. My stomach rolled nauseatingly and I broke out in a sweat, trembling. For the first time, I felt like what I actually was. A silly young girl in over her head who had no idea how to keep her loved ones safe. A stupid, useless time traveler who, when the time came, would fail in protecting either her mother, sister, or both from a man who, contrary to now, would't give a damn when it truly mattered. I'd probably just end up hurting them myself in the process!

I let out a strangled sob and the lady in waiting sleeping by my bedside must have heard it because she bolted upright.

"Your Highness?! Your Highness! Help! Someone get a physician! Alert their majesties!" her panicked voice was the last thing I heard before my vision transcended into darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: i'm soooo sorry about not updating sooner you guys; I've been super busy with school and soccer, and I've had some pretty bad writers block, but here's the newest chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

When I came to, my head was pounding. I groaned slightly as I opened my eyes. To my surprise, I wasn't in my own chambers. Then I remembered what had happened. The weight of it all came crashing down on me and I slid further under the covers of the bed I had been resting in. A selfish part of me wished to be blissfully ignorant for just another hour.

I stayed there, curled up on the bed for a while. I was struggling, my mind caught between trying to escape the thoughts of my meltdown and buckling under the pressure of them. Finally, I rose out of bed; just staying there was getting me no where. As I staggered towards the doorway, I heard angry shouts from the other side.

"What in God's name do you _mean_ you don't understand what's wrong with her?!"

"Please, Your Majesty! We've been examining the possibilities as quickly as possible!" A surge of pity swept though me; I didn't envy the poor man who bore the brunt of my father's anger. Pushing the door open, I stared at the sight before me. My father, the King of England, was looming over a terrified looking man, his face a glowing red shade and his expression a mask of pure, unaltered fury. Beside him was my mother, her eyes full of worry. She was holding Mary's hand as my sister trembled, pressing against the Queen of England's side. But that wasn't what caught my eye. It was the state of disarray that donned all of them; Mary looked tired and haggard and her eyes were red, presumably from tears. My mother's face was taught and her jaw tight, her skin pale and a frown marred her face. And then there was Father. His state of dress was pristine of course, but the fury he showed off, the danger, it made me shiver. It reminded me of what he was to become.

To my surprise, my mother had some of her ladies and maids with her. They, true to tradition, wore only white and black, but one of them noticed me before anyone else. Her eyes widened and she sank into a deep curtsy.

"Your Highness," she said. _That_ got everyone's attention. Heads whipped around to see me. The ladies and maids all copied her and I hurriedly motioned for them to rise. Even after six years of this life, it still felt a bit odd to me having everyone be so-how do I put it?- reverent towards me.

Turning to my family, I smiled weakly. Mary was the first one to react. My sister, bless her, looked to Mother and Father for permission before bolting towards me. I nearly grunted at the force of the impact, but that had been a habit long since trained out of me by our parents and tutors. I buried my face in her hair and hugged her desperately, not wanting to let go. Distantly, I heard Mother dismissing everyone else outside of the room. Mary sobbed into the nape of my neck, her arms tightening around me.

"I was so scared," she said between her tears. "I was terrified that God would call you to Heaven and you'd leave me here." I didn't know what to say to that. Grasping for words, I tried to sooth her with a joke.

"Hey, I'm not going to die yet, Mary. I'm too amazing to go out any time soon!" She glared at me, evidently not amused.

"Not funny," she mumbled.

After a while, I reluctantly wriggled out of her embrace. Before I knew it, Father had swept me up and held me close to his chest. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. I closed my eyes and pressed closer to him. I could hear his heartbeat and I felt the comforting warmth that was so purely _him_ before something caught my attention. There was a bruise by his collarbone. A bruise. There hadn't been any jousting tournaments yet this spring and no one would have dared strike the King so I knew he could only have gotten it one way; it had been a gift from one of his lovers. Suddenly I felt cold and before my Tudor temper could consume me, I made a wise choice. Squirming from his grip until he let me go, I focused on Mother.

I didn't run to her like I had Mary or Father which I think surprised all of them. To be fair, I'd started to before a throbbing headache formed between my eyes. Clutching my head, I slumped sightly against Father, whom I was still beside.

"Margaret?" Mary asked, her voice trembling. "Are you alright?" I opened my mouth to respond but in an instant Mother was by my side. She put a soft kiss on my temple and lifted me up herself. I was actually rather surprised she had the strength to do so.

"Get the physician," she said softly. "Please Henry, order him back." She carried me back to my bed and placed me there as we waited for the man in question. I was impressed by her calmness and handling of the situation but as my gaze met hers, I saw the panic she was hiding, probably for all our sakes. I touched her cheek, feeling the need to comfort her, before letting my hand drop.

"Rest," she urged me. "Regain your strength." I complied warily, dimly aware of my family around me as I succumbed to sleep once more.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been two weeks since my meltdown. In that time, I hadn't been allowed to leave my room since my little escapade and physicians were almost always swarming around me. Mary visited me as much as she could and Mother was almost always by my side. Father stopped by a few times a day, always seeming to be deep in thought.

Today, however, was special. You see, I was finally being let out of the chambers that had become more like a prison over the last half month. Lady Salisbury and my sister were beside me along with several of my and Mary's caretakers. I asked for my Father almost immediately; I needed to estimate just how much I had missed out on during my recovery. Nevertheless, I was rejected. Apparently, the King was at a meeting with his Privy Council. My brow furrowed at that. Father was a young, lively man who enjoyed having his fun. Why on Earth would he be at a council session on a beautiful day like this?

"Where is Her Majesty then?" I asked. The poor page who I had called for answered weakly.

"The Queen currently resides in her chambers. She and her household are mending shirts for the poor." My eyes flew open at that. My queenly mother's actions were not out of the ordinary, but if her household was there, that meant that Anne and Mary Boleyn would most likely be there as well.

"Can we go there?" I did my best to keep the urgency out of my voice. Lady Salisbury smiled indulgently at me.

"Her Majesty must accept you first, Your Highness."

"She can receive us when we arrive," I said. Eyebrows rose at that; I was generally known to be a rather polite child and Mother had raised me to have better manners than the ones I was displaying.

"Your Highness," Lady Salisbury said cautiously," Are you well?" Anger blossomed within my chest. I _needed_ to visit my mother. Why couldn't she see that?!

"I'm fine!" After the words left my mouth, I winced at my tone; they'd sounded sharper than I intended. Lady Salisbury frowned slightly.

"I will make a request to Her Majesty. If she accepts, we will be able to visit within the hour. Why don't you play in the gardens while we wait?" At this, Mary perked up.

"Come on Margaret," she encouraged. "Let's go!" My seething temper was calmed somewhat by her smiling face. My sister's happy, carefree features were so warm and open. It was hard to believe that the charming little girl before me would end up burning hundreds of people at the stake. I pushed away that thought. If I had my way, little Mary would never become that cruel, bitter, miserable person.

Mary pulled me towards the gardens, it was a warmer March day after all, and we sat on the benches and fed the ducks in the pond for a while. We made our way through the hedges as my sister informed me of the studies I had missed. I nearly flinched at the thought; make up work was a bitch, no matter what time period you lived in.

Our good fun was interrupted by the same page boy from earlier returning.

"Your Highnesses," he said, bowing lowly. "Her Majesty is prepared to receive you now, with open arms." Mary gave him a warm smile and rose to her feat. I followed swiftly as did Lady Salisbury. Together, our party made our way to Mother's quarters. My stomach felt like lead. I was nervous and shaking, my hands sweaty. I clasped them together by my side and felt bile rise in my throat. As we were announced and the doors opened, I saw Mother sitting upon her chair and her ladies and maids of honor around her, as usual. But there was a person who had caught my eye. I swallowed thickly. Because sitting by my mother in a stylish black dress, speaking avidly with another pretty lady was a woman I had not seen before in person. Still, I recognized her pale skin, black hair and eerily dark eyes, ones that enraptured you and made you see only her and nothing else from her portraits. There, sitting in front of me was the woman who would become Mother's bitterest enemy. She would be instrumental in the downfall of my mother, my sister, and myself if I didn't play my cards right. I was staring right at the one and only Anne Boleyn.


	12. Chapter 12

For a moment, I could only stand there, frozen. Multiple emotions rushed through me at once. Rage, fear, pity, there were too many to identify. Mary tugged at my hand, pulling me from my whirlwind of emotions. Her eyes were full of concern. I forced myself to walk past Anne Boleyn to my mother. I curtsied before her and she smiled warmly. Mother motioned for chairs to be brought by her and once we got settled, she spoke.

"We have two new arrivals from the French court who you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, Margaret," she said. She glanced at Anne and the woman who she'd been speaking with earlier. "These lovely ladies are Anne and Mary Boleyn. They are maids of honor." To a casual observer, my mother sounded perfectly pleasant. I, however, was not one such person and I stiffened when I heard the undertone of anger and hostility in Mother's voice. Glancing up at her, I saw the Queen's face to be slightly pained. And then, I remembered why.

Father had never been very subtle about his liaisons, sometimes even flaunting them Bessie Blount being a prime example, and at this time, historically at least, the elder Boleyn sister had been his mistress. To her credit, Mother was significantly more controlled than me; if it had been _my_ husband's whore- and later I would feel a bit guilty for referring to Mary Boleyn as such- I would abuse any power I had over her. The tension in the room was thick and the two women before me looked extremely uncomfortable.

A part of me wanted to embarrass and humiliate the both of them, here and now. I didn't know how I would be able to, but, for a moment, my blood boiled and a desire to hurt them consumed me. The emotions faded as swiftly as they arrived and horror filled me. This wasn't who I was; I was better than that! But the anger still churned in my stomach, a remnant of my disturbing thoughts just moments before.

Only when I felt a tug on my hand did I realize that everyone was waiting for a reaction. Plastering a smile on my face, I rose to my feet. "Hello!" I chirped. "How are you?" Mother allowed them to rise and Anne Boleyn answered.

"We are quite well, Your Highness. May we assume the same goes for you?" I lifted my chin proudly and in a rather haughty voice I responded.

"Yes, you may Mistress Boleyn." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Anne's mouth quirk up into a smile. I walked towards her, the plan to befriend her still firm in my mind. Seeing a deck of cards by the table, I tilted my head towards them.

"Would you like to play?" I asked. They nodded and as we began, everything resumed to as it had been. Mary sat by my side, holding my hand and I grinned at her.

"Mistress Boleyn, what is France like?" The sisters looked up.

"Pardon me, Your Highness, but to which of us is it you speak?" Mary Boleyn asked.

"Either of you."

"Well then," the elder Boleyn said, "France's weather is fairer than here in England. The French court is very festive as well; the French do enjoy their balls."

"And of the Dauphin?" I pressed. "You were a part of Queen Claude's household, I'm sure you must have at least seen him from afar." Anne smiled slyly.

"That depends Your Highness, on if you mean to think well of him or not." She blinked after that, as if surprised she'd said something so complicated to a child. To be fair, Mary was probably confused. I glanced at my twin and saw her eyebrows furrowed; my assumption, it seemed, had been correct. But Anne was not speaking to a child. I was mentally twenty six years old and I had the blood of some of the most ruthless monarchs in history running through my veins. Through my mother's line, there was the House of Trastámara directly. From my father's was the House of Plantagenet, although more distantly and running through a weaker line. All in all, once I aged in this life, woman or not, I wasn't going to be someone to be trifled with. Well, unless I was bastardized.

My right hand, which had lain across my lap, tightened into a fist. I looked down for a moment, trying to get control of myself, before noticing how my knuckles were white with the strain I was putting on them. Relaxing the limb, I inhaled deeply.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" My eyes darkened when Mary Boleyn asked the question. My twin, who had been sitting boredly as we played, straightened to attention.

"Yes, thank you." Somehow, my voice had remained level. _Focus, Margaret,_ I told myself. _For Mother and for Mary._ I glanced at the former for strength. She'd always carried herself with pride and poise _,_ with a secret fire beneath the surface just waiting to be unveiled. As subtly as I could, I copied her sitting position.

Chin up slightly, shoulders and back straight, legs and arms relaxed. Hands in her lap and her eyes looking down her nose just a bit to remind everyone _she_ was the Queen of England, no matter how kind she was towards them. I didn't know how to feel about that last part, though it probably had to do with her insecurity about her lack of a son.

My lips thinned. Mother shouldn't have to live this life; having an ass for a husband- and it was true, no matter how much I cared for Father- was bad enough, but him actively letting others to undermine her or doing so himself was more than that. It was downright dangerous for her. I suddenly felt guilty. How could I love someone who hurt and would continue to bring harm to those I cared for? I had opened my heart to Father and I couldn't exactly judge him for things he had not yet done, that was true enough, but I _could_ resent him for his poor treatment of my dear mother.

"- Highness?" I blinked and saw the concerned faces of my sister and the Boleyns.

"Hm?"

"I do not think you are well, Your Highness, despite what you say," Mary Boleyn said. Anne's eyes snapped to her, blazing.

"Hush Mary!" she hissed. "Do you want all of England knowing this?" The elder Boleyn's face flushed. My sister didn't look away from me though. Her hand touched my cheek gently, in a way that reminded me of Mother. She said nothing but her tense posture told me everything I needed to know. My left hand wrapped around her free one, squeezing it gently. My twin relaxed; she was my strength and I hers. Without her, I was just half of myself.

A part of me knew I was becoming too dependent on Mary. It wasn't fair for either of us that I was leaning on her so completely. But since my meltdown, I had become vulnerable. When looking at Father, all I could see was the monster he was to become. All I could see was how terribly he treated his wife, the woman he had sworn to cherish. When looking at Mother, all I could see was the fallen warrior. The woman who after everything she had gone through would die miserable and alone, leaving her daughter to fend for herself.

Mary was different though. Maybe it was because we were twins, or because she was younger than them, I didn't know. All I was certain of was that when I looked at her, when I saw who she would become, I was filled with determination. I was alive, she could never become Queen. I was here, but if things continued as they had in history, she would still be bitter and full of spite and hate and hurt.

 _NO._ That person, that's who my sister _would have become._ But I, I _was going to save her from that._ I had a plan, I was fighting for the people I loved- because I'd be damned if Mother had to suffer as terribly again- and I would battle until I was dead.

Meeting Anne Boleyn's gaze, I could feel my eyes flash. I would succeed. _I had too._ And my first step to doing so was getting to her. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, after all.

"Mistresses Boleyn, I rather like the both of you. If I return to visit tomorrow, will you give me the honor of your company again?" The two glanced at each other in slight disbelief, and I could have sworn I saw guilt cross Mary Boleyn's face.

"Yes, Your Highness," Anne said carefully. "If you have not tired of us by the morrow, we will be very pleased to spend our time with you." I smiled, but if felt unnatural on my face, like when glue got on your hands.

"Excellent!" I exclaimed. That, I think, is when the wheels truly started to turn. I was about to walk right onto a battlefield and if I wasn't careful, I wouldn't even know what had hit me.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: It's a bit of a short chapter today, but since I'm on school break after this, I** _should_ **be able to get another one in sooner. It should be fairly long. Also, I guess I should do disclaimers more often (even though we're legit on a fanfiction website) so here it is: I do not own The Tudors. If I did, the shit that happened to everyone wouldn't be a real thing. Except to Henry. Because fuck Henry.**

It had been a week since my first meeting with the Boleyn sisters. Every day since then I had visited them, dragging my twin along with me. Mary Boleyn was kindhearted, even if she was not as sharp of mind as her sister, and had it not been for the fact that she was my father's mistress, I would have quite liked her. Mother made no move to stop us, which I had at first considered odd, but upon thinking about it, I realized she probably didn't want to anger Father, especially in these troubled times. He wasn't looking for a divorce-yet. But I knew my mother suspected it. She had been born and practically raised on her parents' war campaign; she knew when a battle was brewing.

During our meetings, I was careful to assess the Boleyns. Every time we visited, Mary Boleyn seemed to look guiltier and guiltier. Perhaps it was because she was our father's mistress. Perhaps it was because of the opinion her own Papa had about my mother; I could already guess that it wasn't a high one. Whatever it was though, she became kinder and gentler whenever she saw us. This time, the four of us were by the back of the room, staring at each other. Mary- my sister, not the Boleyn one- had grown bored today. In that boredom, she had thought of a game we'd played together hundreds of times; Straight Face. The game was similar to that of it's twenty-first century. If you smiled at someone else, you were out.

Mary Boleyn and my twin were up first. My sister stared right at her, and I could see the childish seriousness in her eyes. Th elder Boleyn seemed to notice it as well, for the corners of her mouth began to twitch. Soon, a laugh bubbled from her lips and a full blown grin slid onto her face. My twin puffed out her chest proudly, glancing at Mother to see if she's noticed. She had. Our mother made her way to us, her features gentle.

"Margaret, Mary," she said chidingly. "Have you been playing that silly game of yours again?" She tried to look stern, but there was no heat behind her words. Mary dipped her head a bit, sheepish and I glanced down at my hands. Our mother sat in a chair beside us, but as she opened her mouth to speak, a page burst through the door. Mother raised an eyebrow and her gaze bore down on the poor man. He scrambled to bow

"Forgive me for the intrusion Your Majesty," he said. "But the King calls for the Princess Margaret." I rose to my feet and Mary followed, but the page stopped her. " _Only_ the Princess Margaret, Your Highness." Hurt and envy flashed across my sister's face at his words. I reached out to her, but she shifted away from me. I stared at her in disbelief. She was going to act like this now? _Seriously?!_ Sometimes, it was hard to remember that although _I_ might not desire our father's approval with all my heart, _Mary did._ It must feel like he was snubbing her.

Grudgingly, I let her actions slide, but a buzzing frustration was still at the back of my mind. Unsettled by my twin's actions, I set off towards my kingly father. It was a meeting that I would _never_ forget.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Not the long chapter promised, I'm aware, but I've had a bit of writer's block recently. I actually had to right this out a few times.**

As I was guided through the halls of the palace, I heard tense whispers from nobles. Attentive eyes were staring me down, almost as if they were waiting for something, before I arrived to my destination. As soon as I did, my breathing picked up erratically; these were the doors to my father's Privy Council. But why was I here? Swallowing heavily, I pressed my hand against the sturdy oak doors and entered.

There in the room was Father, surrounded by ministers and advisers, and important nobleman. But they weren't what caught my eye the most. No. By my kingly father was a little boy, no older than three. He had red hair and sparkling blue eyes accompanied by high cheekbones and a pale complexion. He looked a lot like me. Like Father. My mouth was dry. I knew who this boy was.

Luckily, before I could say anything, the King spoke.

"Your Highness," he said. I curtsied respectfully.

"Your Majesty." My father's eyes flicked to the boy, my- no, I couldn't bring myself to say the word.

"After your illness, I have spent much time thinking," he began. "England does not yet have an official heir. I have realized how important the matter is, and plan to instate you as the Princess of Wales. The men around me are here as witness to my decision before your ceremony. Your brother," and here he gestured to the boy, "the Duke of Richmond and Somerset will accompany you to Ludlow" My vision felt hazy and my skin hot. I opened my mouth, and closed it again. _No, no! This was all wrong!_ Mary had been made Princess of Wales in 1525, yet I was taking the position three years earlier than she had! Father gave me a gentle, expectant smile, as if waiting for me to be pleased.

But I wasn't. Mary couldn't come with me, Mother couldn't, Lady Salisbury had always favored my sister so she wouldn't; I would be desolately alone to defend myself. Alone with a boy who was completely capable of my downfall. He was a threat to my mother, my sister, and myself. And the King was sending him with me. Suddenly, I didn't take the protection of my parents so lightly.

 _How in God's name could I have forgotten about Fitzroy?!_

I plastered a smile on my face, fear and anger pulsing through me.

"I am most thankful, Your Majesty." My father frowned slightly at my flat tone but I paid no mind. I had known I would have to fight eventually, but I had not expected to do so so soon. Still, I drew myself up to my full height and my gaze met Fitzroy's. Inside though, I was shaking; in focusing on the long term, I had completely overlooked Bessie Blount and her bastard. I would be without any close allies and apart from Mary, my whole world, and Mother, my idol. And now, my grave miscalculation put me right in the firing range of my biggest rival- even now, never mind when we were both older. At that moment, I didn't see a brother, I saw an enemy.

I had been thrown into battle without warning but I was my mother's daughter; war was in my blood. I was ready.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support! You really inspire me to keep on writing and I appreciate every one of you! That's where this next question comes in; do you guys want less, longer chapters or more, shorter chapters?**

I confess that after I was dismissed from my kingly father's presence, I raced straight back to the safety of my mother. I nearly flew, the poor page escorting me straining to keep up without running. Since I was returning to her chambers, there was no need for Mother's permission (this time around) and I entered hurriedly. At the sight of her, and of Mary, I relaxed slightly. Nevertheless, the Queen must have seen my alarm for she dismissed everyone else except us twins from the room. Her voice was gentle and soothing when she spoke.

"What troubles you so, child?" Mary's expression was still standoffish at best, and I grimaced inwardly; she herself had a Tudor Temper and I dreaded her reaction.

"Father-" my voice broke slightly but I took a deep breath and recovered it. "Father has decided he will make me Princess of Wales and send me to Ludlow Castle." Mother's face lit up like a Christmas light but I saw no surprise in it. She had known. She had known and not told me or Mary. My mother seemed to realize where my mind was headed and hurried break through my thoughts.

"I wanted to tell you, Margaret, I did. However, I also wanted you to enjoy the time you had left with Mary." Speaking of my twin, I turned to see her reaction. My sister sat in her chair, frozen. Her face was closed off, but there her eyes looked strangely wet. My anger at Mother cooled for a moment as I tried in vain to comfort my little sister.

"Mary?" I asked tentatively. "Are you alright?" Without warning, she hurled herself at me. My eyes widened, and I braced myself for a blow. It never came. Instead, a little pair of arms wrap around me and a liquid substance made contact with the crook of my neck. I pulled back a bit.

"Hey, don't cry. Please." Mary sniffled and tightened her grip.

"Don't go," she pleaded. "I'm sorry for earlier. I was just angry Papa wanted to see you but not me too, that's all! I don't want you to leave!" I was rendered speechless by her admission. I kissed her forehead and glanced over her shoulder at Mother. A soft smile sported her face. She toyed with a lock of her hair and sighed almost regretfully.

"Margaret must go Mary," she said. "You father commands it." At her youngest daughter's dismayed gasp, Mother walked towards us. We separated from our embrace and she put one hand on my left shoulder and the other on Mary's right. "No matter what," she said, "Promise me you will never truly fight each other. It would break my heart to see the children of my womb warring."

"Of course we won't!" My sister replied indignantly. "Margaret and I are not just sisters, we are twins! We will always protect one another!"

"We swear it!" I added. My lips twitched up; for so long I had plotted on how to keep this little girl safe. But now, it seemed as if she thought _I_ needed _her_ protection. I nearly laughed at the irony. In the coming years, I would remember our promise with both relief and bitterness; for all the times it was kept and then the times it was shattered.


	16. Chapter 16

**A bit of a filler chapter honestly; I had to rewrite this thing four times. Things will start picking up soon though :)**

In the next week and a half spent preparing for my ceremony, Mary and I clung by each other. We were practically joined at the hip playing games with the Boleyns, studying, and feasting. We were both eager to make the most of our remaining time together. Mother was a comforting presence as nobles -without subtly- placed their young daughters before me in hopes I would request them to be my companions.

Currently, Mary and I were eating sweetmeats we had bribed from Mary Boleyn. We sat in my chambers, sprawled out across my bed. My sister's eyes were closed with contentment and I smiled softly at her. Suddenly though, she cracked them open. Mary's expression was unnaturally intense and I started at her resemblance to Father in that moment.

"You'll contact me while you're at Ludlow, won't you?" she asked. I inched over to my sister and bumped her shoulder with mine.

"Don't be stupid Mary," I told her. _"Of course_ I'll write you letters." My twin's face nearly crumbled with relief and I felt something akin to regret wash over me. I touched Mary's cheek gently and slowly her gaze turned to mine.

"Did you really think I would forget all about you?" Mary shifted closer to me and I grinned slightly at the action, despite the serious tone of our conversation.

"I've seen it happen before," my sister told me. "Lords and Ladies return from their travels and suddenly their baby brothers and sisters aren't good enough for them." I sighed at her words and ran a hand through my hair for a moment, thinking of the best way to comfort her. Then, I remembered.

"Mary, do you still have the hairpins that Father gave us for our fourth birthday?" My sister gave a surprised noise but nodded against the crook of my neck. I shrugged her off of me gently and slowly began removing _my_ hairpins. They were red with white streaks- Tudor colors- decorating them and Mary's were the same but in reverse. "I'll wear your hairpins," I suggested, "And you can have mine. That way we'll always be reminded of each other." Mary's face brightened and her eyes danced with glee. We traded them quickly before any of our servants could come in; for some reason, this seemed like a moment between just us, not something that anyone else should bear witness to.

Once it was done, my twin took a handful of sweetmeats and I shook my head. Mary had a sweet tooth almost as bad as the one I'd had in my first life. A sense of loss swept through me at the reminder of my old life; I adored Mother and Mary and I loved Father, but I missed my old family and friends. I missed my little brother's muffled curses in Spanish when I embarrassed him in front of his friends and my dad's warm, secure presence. I missed my mom's ringing laughter and the Spanish lullabies she would sing to me and my brother when we were little. My chest hurt and my breath caught. Tears pricked at my eyes. I'd been pushing the thought of my old family away because they hurt too much to think about but now, everything was rushing back to me at once.

I was distracted when a little pair of arms wrapped around me. I looked down, my heart swelling with gratitude and I opened my mouth but Mary made a hushing sound. "Don't say anything," she whispered soothingly. "Just relax Margaret. Go to sleep." Obediently, I willed my eyes closed and my arms encircled Mary.

I missed my old family and friends and I always would. But I had a new one that needed me in the here and now, more than my old one ever did, and I loved them just as fiercely. My eyelids suddenly felt heavy and when my sister's breathing evened out I knew she was asleep. My lips curved up a bit and I pressed a light kiss on her forehead. Before I knew it, I was out like a light bulb as well.


	17. So, It's Been A While

Let me start by saying that this isn't an update. I'm only writing this out because I feel I've left anyone who still cares about _Thorns_ hanging for long enough, and that I should be honest. First of all, I'm not abandoning this story. It's very close to my heart, and by far my most popular piece of writing so far. That being said, I feel the need to take a break. I have a lot of stuff going on in my life right now, including an original story that I've been working on. I'm only just a kid, so I'm not really planning much with the fist draft, but it's another project that's really important to me.

While I can't say when exactly I'll be returning, rest assured that I don't ever plan on leaving _Thorns_ behind. The same goes for all my other stories. Any chapters that are published will be ones that I've already written and edited, and those are for my Harry Potter fanfic, _Reverence._

In any case, I'm sorry if I've let anyone down- although, as I've said before, I'm being rather arrogant in assuming that people care. Thank you so much for all of the support you've shown. I haven't brought it up before, but every review I get, every favorite and follow, they make me really happy; more than words can describe.

Have a great day of night wherever you are in the world guys. :)


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thanks for being so patient with me guys. You have no idea how much your kind words meant to me. Now that my life is a little more orderly (although I swear to God I have some dumb History project due next month), I've decided I'm going to try to live up to an update schedule. At least twice a month, I'm going to try and update a chapter. Sometimes more frequently, depending on how busy I am. Now, on with the chapter.**

I shifted slightly in my carriage as it rocked, closing my eyes as I grew motion sick. My mood was foul and grew only worse as my hand instinctively reached out for Mary's. Mary who wasn't there. Bile crept up my throat as the carriage shifted violently yet again and Lady Salisbury, who had joined me on my journey after all, glanced at me with concern.

"Are you well, Your Highness?"

I nodded weakly and rested my head back in my seat, breathing with some difficulty. My chest tightened. _Damn it._ The ceremony in which I became the Princess of Wales had gone smoothly enough, but I was still wearing the heavy dress, laden with many cloths. It was only spring, but the day was hot and humid. I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my back. To top it all off, Father had assigned Fitzroy to me immediately after the ceremony and now we were being shipped to Ludlow in haste. I'd had horrible carsickness in my first life. Now it seemed as if my old affliction was coming back to haunt me.

Lady Salisbury frowned at my disposition, and offered my a flask of watered wine. I muttered my thanks as I took it. I had to fight against the urge to just down the beverage in a few gulps. Lady Salisbury patted my hand with sympathy, a gentle smile resting upon her lips. I was surprised by the softness in her eyes. She had always seemed to favor Mary, even though she was kind enough towards me.

We didn't speak after that. My caregiver began to read and as the adrenaline finally left my body, I grew tired. Before I knew it, I'd drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"Your Highness," a voice murmured. "Your Highness!" It was sharper this time. Blearily, I blinked my eyes open to see the face of Lady Salisbury above me. Her expression was slightly exasperated. "It's night, Your Highness," she continued. "And we've arrived at a manor. We'll be staying the night here." My mind was still foggy from sleep, and I did something I would never have if I was wide awake. I _grunted._ My eyes widened immediately after I did so. Now, in the modern world, this might not have seemed like much, just something for someone's friends to tease them playfully about. In Tudor era England however, well-

 _"Your Highness!'_ Lady Salisbury's voice was a sharp as any blade. She didn't raise it, not even a little, but her angry tone was more than enough to make me flinch. Just as it seemed I was about to receive the lecture of my life, someone cam to my rescue.

"She's a child," my savior said. "And children will be children. Let her have the benefit of the doubt at least this once, Countess."

I took a good look at him, the man who had just helped me. He had a kind face with mischievous brown eyes. Chestnut hair was graying around his temples, and his beard was trimmed neatly to his jaw. He wore rich cloth, silk by the looks of it, and I would be lying if I said he didn't have a bit of a protruding stomach. Lady Salisbury shot him an annoyed look.

"And if the princess does not learn her manners now, then when will she, My Lord Grey?"

Hold up.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, and I stared at Lord Grey. Was he Thomas Grey? The 2nd Marquess of Dorest? But what was he _doing_ here? He'd never accompanied my sister when she'd gone to Ludlow, despite being named the Grand Master of her household. Then again, Mary had never been formally made Princess of Wales. And she'd gone to Ludlow three years later than I. And Fitzroy had never gone with her.

Call me stupid, but it only hit me then- completely and absolutely at least- that things were already changing, and I hadn't even achieved anything major yet. So what was causing these sudden shifts in the timeline? The answer was actually pretty obvious: my birth. Suddenly, everything seemed more hazardous. Father could fall in love with Anne Boleyn any day now, or someone else could catch his eye. He could die and leave me to struggle in ruling over England any day, albeit that seemed unlikely. Father was in the peak of health as of now after all.

I gulped and did my best to ignore the lump in my throat. I didn't have a 100% accurate guidebook to history anymore. Anything could fly out of left field, good or bad, and I would be totally unprepared.

Only one word could really summarize my thoughts and emotions in that moment.

 _Shit._


	19. Chapter 18

A while after my world changing realization, my party arrived at Ludlow. A daily routine was established just a few weeks after my time spent there. I would wake up early, around six thirty, and eat breakfast with my tutors. After my meal, I would study language for a few hours, perfecting my Latin and Spanish while continuing to learn French.

Maths was next; a rigorous subject which I admit I enjoyed more than language. As a full grown woman (mentally at least), learning a new language was _unbelievably difficult._ Especially _French_ ( and trust me, you don't want to know how hard I struggled learning _Latin)_. Math, on the other hand, was a universal language, and one that I'd already studied in my previous life. I already had a firm grip on it. If someone had told me in my first life that _math_ would one day be my favorite subject, I would have laughed my ass off at them.

Lunch was after math, followed by an hour long break which I used to either nap or pen letters to Mary. Fitzroy had his own lunch before mine, and to my relief I was normally able to avoid him. After my break I studied English, and my tutors focused heavily on poetry and wordplay. The Princess's Council took care of any problems in Wales that might pop up, but every three weeks I would ride out along with Fitzroy to stir Welsh moral.

And that was how we were here now. The heat of July was heavy, and it carried with it my short temper. It didn't help things that my father's bastard was in the same carriage as me, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. Lady Salisbury caught the thunderous expression on my face and frowned at me reproachfully. She must have though I hated the little boy. That was both true and not. I hated the fact that he was a danger to my family, especially now that there was no guarantee he would die by seventeen. Fitzroy was _dangerous_ , everyone could see that, even if he himself didn't know it yet.

At the same time, he was just a child. He hadn't asked to be born. He hadn't asked for Father to betray his wife, my mother with the Lady Blount. In my mind, I knew this. But at the same time, he had caused my dear mother such agony, and destabilized her position as Queen even more so. He had endangered Mary and myself as well, and that on top of Mother's pain was not something I did not think I could forgive. In short, I did not _hate_ the little boy- at easy not completely. But I despised what his birth had caused, and what he might become.

I peeked though the window of the carriage and waved to the Welsh who had all gathered to see the Princess of Wales. They had grown to like me, I thought. At the very least, they enjoyed all of the business they received from my visits. Fitzroy hurriedly followed my example, and he looked to me almost as if he wanted my approval. I forced a tight smile onto my face and he _beamed._ I was taken by surprise for a moment and turned away awkwardly. I didn't really handle children besides Mary well.

Lady Salisbury's lips twitched at the scene and I scowled. I wasn't a child damn it! Well, _technically_ I was, but that was beside the point.

As we continued our journey, I thought of Mary. I missed Mother and Father, but she was my other half, as cheesy as that sounded, and without her, I felt desperately alone. There were still times when I found myself reaching for her, or beginning to utter her name before realizing that she wasn't there. My letters to her eased the sting of her absence, but never completely removed it.

There was another problem, also, about my moving to Ludlow; I could not keep close contact with the Boleyns. How was I supposed to earn their affections- more importantly Anne's- when I was holed up in Wales? I considered writing to Anne and her sister, but I did not put it past their relatives to go digging through my letters to them. Anything they could use against me, they would- especially since Mary was Father's mistress. I nearly groaned in frustration, resting a hand against my forehead.

"Sister?" a timid voice called out. I stiffened when I recognized it to be Fitzroy's. It was not fair of me, I knew, but in my mind, the little duke had no right to address me so loosely. Lady Salisbury frowned at him.

"Your Grace," she admonished gently, "You must address the princess as Your Highness." The boy looked hurt and confused.

"But she is my father's daughter. She is my family!"

In a flash, a brilliant thought occurred to me. I did not care for Fitzroy, not one bit, but he evidently longed for my affection. If I could put on a facade, if I could pretend to love him, I could shape him up to be a perfect little soldier. Just like Anne Boleyn, I could possibly turn an enemy to my cause. I could have another powerful figure backing me when the time came for my father the King to turn against me. So with these thoughts in mind, I gave gave Fitzroy a little grin. With a wink, I whispered to him: "Just call me Margaret."

My father's bastard giggled as if we had just shared some great secret and I felt cold satisfaction run through me. I had just sown the seeds of what could be a great advantage for myself, my mother, and my sister.


	20. Chapter 19

_**A/N: This is a short chapter and I'm sorry for that :(. A lot of stuff has been on my plate this month, especially with school. To make it up to you guys, I'm going try and write write a couple extra chapters in June.**_

It had only been about two weeks since I'd decided to make a friend out of my father's bastard when terrible news raged across the country. I was eating my breakfast, an array of eggs with bacon and freshly buttered bread when a young man suddenly burst into the dining hall. His dark blonde hair was a rats nest, and mud and dirt covered his clothes. His light brown eyes were wide with panic. The guards around us stood to attention quickly, drawing their blades. The Marquess of Dorset, who had chosen to dine with me today, leaped to his feet.

"Thomas!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here, lad?"

The man- Thomas- bent over and breathed harshly before responding. "Your wife sent me, Lord. The King's men follow to warn the Princess of Wales of the terrible news." He seemed to choke on his words for a moment before continuing. "An outbreak of the Sweat has flared up once more!"

For a moment, everyone was silent at the declaration. Then, everything happened at once. I heard a lady- probably one of the servants- wail. Panicked shouts rang through the air and immediately I was ushered to my chambers, Dorset hot on my heels. His face was pale with fear. I felt my own color drain. My Uncle Arthur had died of this illness, and Mother had nearly joined him. The Sweat could clearly afflict those in even the highest circles; no one was safe.

I thought of my poor mother and how she must be feeling. A part of her had to be terrified, I was sure, that she herself would catch the Sweat, or that one of us- her family, I meant- would. My heart ached for her, and soon it became difficult for me to breathe. I began to hyperventilate, and my hands curled into fists. Dizzying terror swept over me. I might be on my second life, but that didn't mean I wasn't afraid to die. And if Father was to pass, it would be disastrous. If Mother died, Mary and I would lose our greatest protector- and the object of our admiration. If Mary died-

I stopped that train of thought. Thinking about my parents' deaths were hard enough, but I couldn't fathom losing my dear sister!

"Your Highness!" Dorset's voice was almost shrill with panic. "Your Highness, be calm! I beseech you!"

I didn't listen- I couldn't. My hands clawed at my throat as I struggled for breath and to my mortification, I felt tears well up in my eyes. A hard blow landed on my face. I gasped, and air flowed back into my lungs. When I comprehended what had happened, I stared at Dorset incredulously. The nobleman's face was twisted in a grimace and he looked a bit guilty.

"Are you well now, Princess?"

I touched my red cheek lightly. "Indeed I am, Lord," my voice was sour. Dorset winced and patted my shoulder awkwardly.

"I will call a servant for His Grace the Duke of Richmond and Somerset," he said. "Try to stay calm, Your Highness. Your panic will do nothing for us."

Determination filled me and I lifted up my chin. I gave a steady nod and the Marquess smiled. Then he walked to the door of my chambers and stepped out, swaying a bit on his feet. My respect for Dorset increased; he was terrified out of his mind as well, but he put on a brave face for who he believed was a child. My cheek still stung a bit but what was left of the pain was fading away quickly.

Dorset returned after a few moments and sat heavily on fur draped a chair. "His Grace will be here shortly," the Marquess told me. "For now, we wait until his arrival."


	21. Announcement

Hey guys! Right now, I'm using my Uncle's computer to post this, but soon it won' t be available because I'm leaving his house. Just wanted to give an update. My computer crashed, plain and simple. Until I can either repair it or get a new one, I won't be able to add any more parts to _Thorns_ \- or any of my stories actually. I'm sorry to say it might take a while so I didn't want to leave anyone hanging.


	22. Chapter 20

_**A/N: I've got a new computer guys! Thanks for your patience!**_

Dorset and I maintained a tense silence until Fitzroy arrived in my chambers. The maid servant who had brought him here gripped his shoulder tightly, her knuckles white. My father's bastard grimaced with pain. Our older companion dismissed the maid with a sharp nod and she curtsied deeply before leaving the room.

"Where is Lady Salisbury?" I asked. Dorset frowned.

"She was ill this morning. I thought it best to keep her away from you." A flash of panic struck me.

 _"Ill?"_ I cried. My promise to stay calm was completely forgotten. At my tone, Fitzroy too grew alarmed. He began to sniffle and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Dorset shot me a furious look.

"It most likely isn't the Sweat," he told us. "Still, it's better to be safe than sorry."

My head spun and I lay flat on my back. I wanted to bury myself within the soft covers just below me. For the first time in a long time, I didn't just feel depressed or hopeless or out of my depth. No, along with all of those things I felt an all consuming, mind numbing terror.

 _I don't want to die,_ I thought. _Not again! It was bad enough the first time around!_ Then I remembered my oath to Dorset and something Uncle Jaime had taught me in my previous life. We'd been watching a movie like we did every Friday and the main character was being put through a life or death situation. My Uncle had looked me straight in the eyes and told me "Angela, the most important thing you can do in a dangerous situation is keep a cool head so you can work through whatever's happening."

I sat back up and closed my eyes. I could practically feel my heart thudding in my chest- I could hear its beats. I focused on that sound- that feeling- and slowly everything else around me began to melt away. The colors that usually danced behind my eyelids where replaced by a searing white.

I took a deep breath

Distantly, I could hear Fitzroy asking Dorset what I was doing. The Marquess shushed him with a quiet hiss. I guessed he knew I was trying to calm myself down.

Finally, I felt as if I was ready to open my eyes back up and face the world again.

Almost instantly, a trickle of panic wormed its way into my mind. My eyes narrowed and I centered myself, using the calm I still felt as an anchor. It worked. A gasp escaped me. It worked!

I was so caught up in my victory that I didn't notice a little body hurling itself at me until we made contact. I glanced down to see Fitzroy's short arms wrapped around me. His carrot colored hair brushed my chin and I froze in surprise at the unexpected embrace. Dorset looked shocked himself, and he made no movement to detach my father's bastard from me.

Fitzroy looked up at me and his tearful blue eyes met mine. Despite my best efforts, and completely against my will, a bit of sympathy touched my heart.

This boy was dangerous to me and to my mother and sister. There was also no telling if he would outlive his original seventeen years. I wasn't even sure if my plan would work and if it should fail, I would have to fight not only ambitious families who vied for my mother's fall but also a bastard who might just be the _end_ of me and Mary.

So with all this considered it made no sense that my hand reached out to pat his head or why a gentle smile made its way to my lips.

"It's going to be alright," I whispered. Fitzroy's grip around me tightened but I could feel his trembling beginning to subside.

The only reason I was allowing this situation was because I needed the little boy to trust me.

 _Yes,_ I thought as my hand came over his head again. _That's why I'm doing this._


	23. Chapter 21

_**A/N: I was wondering if you guys preferred more frequent chapters that are shorter, or longer chapters that are less frequent.**_

* * *

I was resting in a chair with my eyes closed when the door to my tutor's study opened wide. I cracked my eyes open to see Fitzroy sneaking into the room.

"Harry?" I stood. Fitzroy froze. A guilty look crossed his face and he shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Harry what are you doing here?"

My suspicion was raised when Fitzroy ducked behind Tutor Andrew's desk at the sound of foot steps. He gave me a pleading look as two servants stepped in, bowing deeply.

"What is it?" I implored. Somehow, I got the feeling this had to do with my father's bastard.

"Your Highness," one of the servants began, "The Duke of Richmond and Somerset fled from his studies just a few minutes ago. We were wondering if you'd seen him?"

I fought hard to keep my gaze from travelling to where said runaway was hiding and bit my lip.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen him," I replied. The servants looked at each other sullenly and I risked a glance at Fitzroy. The boy's smile was _blinding._

It reminded me of when Mary and I were younger, and we used to try and pull one over on Lady Salisbury. On occasion, we still would. A rush of affection swept over me at the thought of my twin. It was August now, and I would be with her around Christmas, but I'd used to see her every day. The change in not having a little chatter box glued to my side was still jarring. Of course now I had a puppy in Fitzroy instead.

My father's bastard scooted closer to me and offered me a few sweetmeats from his pocket. His gave me a shy grin as I hesitated, and it began to fade when I didn't move.

Unbeknownst to him, I wasn't rejecting him.

A thought was flashing through my mind. The image of a Latino boy with his curly dark hair and eyes peeking up at me through long lashes as we smothered our faces with chocolate and cookies. My past brother and I- we were quite the smugglers.

Fitzroy closed his fingers around his palm and I was snapped out of my revere. At his sad look, I felt a sting of regret. Pushing his hand open gently, I took an offered sweetmeat. My father's bastard beamed and before I knew it I had sticky lips pressed up against my cheek and small arms loped around my waist.

I flinched and tried to move away but children could be oblivious at times- such as now unfortunately- and Fitzroy didn't get the message.

After a bit of time squeezing the life out of me, my fellow redhead frowned. He wandered to another chair as I sat back in my own and tried to scramble up. To my amusement, he quickly found that he couldn't. The little boy huffed with exasperation and gazed at me with wide blue eyes. I raised an eyebrow and the look intensified.

 _Oh no._

I knew that look. My brother- the old one- had always given me those puppy dog eyes when he wanted something. I was tolerating my father's bastard. He wasn't supposed to get sibling rights.

But I was at an impasse. How else was I supposed to convince him of my love if not for shows of affection? At the same time, I didn't want a small child sitting on my lap- only Mary and my last brother had gotten that right, and only when they were younger.

Fitzroy jutted out his bottom lip in a pout and I sighed.

"Come on then," I drawled.

Fitzroy was a blurry red streak, bounding towards me and before I knew it little fingers were gripping my arms and feet were kicking at my legs as he hoisted himself up into my lap.

I did _not_ appreciate being used as a jungle gym.

At my sharp look, Fitzroy blushed. Still, he rested the back of his head against my collar bone and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out. I felt my own eyelids begin to grow heavy.

 _Oh what the hell?_ I thought. _A few more moments of rest won't hurt._

I didn't know when I fell asleep, but at some point my chin dropped against the crown of Fitzroy's head.

That was how Dorset found us.

* * *

 _ **if you haven't yet, please read the author's note at the beginning and just comment/review what your answer is.**_


	24. Chapter 22

_**A/N: You have been heard! Seeing as how the majority of you seem to want longer chapters, I'll aim to write 1200 words for each at a minimum- this one being the exception. Just wanted to say this and that I'll be updating 'Thorns' once a month now**_ _ **.**_

* * *

By the time December came, I was sick of Ludlow. The castle was dark and cold, and lacked the presence of my sister and parents.

Mary, in her letters, had mentioned with clear jubilation how Lizzie, the friend she had made in my absence, would be staying at court for the holidays.

Mother wrote to me as well, asking me how my studies were coming along, reminding me to obey my tutors, and frequently informing me about how proud she was of me.

Times were different in the sixteenth century, I knew, but it didn't cease to amaze me sometimes just _how much_ things had changed in the last five hundred years.

Mother asked me about my education, commanded that I obey my teachers, and then lessened the distant tone by telling me of her pride. There was no "I love you", although I knew well enough she adored both me and Mary.

Father didn't write to me, but I heard enough of him as it was. He hadn't ended his liaison with Mary Boleyn, and had in fact flaunted her before my mother earlier last month.

At the reminder of what an ass for a husband he was, I felt my anger rise. Gritting my teeth, I felt indignation sweep through me.

Fitzroy tugged on my hand.

I smiled at the little boy, amused. It seemed he didn't like my attention being taken away from him. I wasn't sure when exactly I'd stopped thinking of him as my father's bastard- it was sometime in September. The truth of the matter was that Fitzroy was too adorable- and too sweet- for _anyone_ to think harshly of him forever.

My barely contained hostility had shifted to tolerance in the last few months. Perhaps I would even miss him a bit when I returned to court.

If I was being honest, I was surprised by our father's decision to not bring him with me.

His sending his son to Ludlow had bolstered the boy's prestige astronomically. If Fitzroy was prized enough to join me, the Princess of Wales, why would he not be brought to court?

Honestly though, I was glad he wasn't going; poor Mother was already suffering enough as it is. She was forced to watch her husband parade his mistress around for all to see- I didn't think she would have been able to handle seeing the boy who should have been hers at the same time.

I stood up, and as my father's son scrambled to his feet, I pat his head. His face bunched up to form an adorable pout.

In response, I ruffled his hair.

 _"Margaret!"_ he squealed.

"What?" I feigned ignorance.

The little boy fixed his locks back into place and glared up at me.

"Don't mess with my hair!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't use me as a playground then."

" _Ahem_."

We both turned around to see Dorset watching us, grinning from ear to ear.

"Lord Grey!" I said. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see your little playfight," was his reply.

My face flushed.

Fitzroy gripped my hand again, and his pudgy fingers gripped my own tightly. He knew we weren't in trouble, because he was trying- and failing- to hide a smirk.

I sighed.

"Has my Father the King informed you of when I should return to court?" Dear God I sounded pretentious.

Dorset nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his posture. No longer was he leaning on the doorframe.

"His Majesty wishes for your return in ten days' time."

Fitzroy sniffled. I glanced at him, and saw his eyes were suspiciously wet.

"Hey," I knelt down until our eyes were level. "You'll see me again, Harry. Before January is up."

My father's son wiped his nose and I grimaced.

"You promise?"

"Of course."

With my oath sealed, the little boy beamed. He looked at Dorset, promptly requested to be relieved from his Latin classes for the day (a subject in which he was already exceling), and upon the man's nod, demanded that I play with him.

* * *

Three days later, Fitzroy was at Ludlow's gates, bidding me a tearful goodbye. Against protocol, I gave him a quick hug. Lady Salisbury's eyes burned holes into the back of my head. Knowing I was already going to pay for acting out of turn, and feeling the urge to cheer my father's son up a bit, I kissed the little boy's forehead.

"Be safe on your journey back to your mother, Harry," I said.

My father's son nodded and dug in his pocket. Shyly, he handed to me what had been inside. I took it, examined it, and smiled.

"Thank you," I murmured.

Fitzroy had given me a pouch filled with his favorite sweetmeats. He adored this brand, and always snatched the treats up for dessert. The fact that he was willing to share them spoke volumes.

My father's son flashed me a small smile before he was led back inside by several servants. Dorset helped me into my carriage, where I was to ride with Lady Salisbury. He handed me a flask of wine, and a basket with snacks for the trek.

With that, my journey back to court began.


	25. Chapter 23

_**A/N: Today, my friends, is a special day. Last year, on August 24, 2018, I posted the very first chapter of 'Thorns'. I never expected my little story to get any attention, but that being said, I'm so grateful to all of you who have stuck around! Now the mushy stuff is over, and you can keep reading 'Thorns' :)**_

* * *

My journey to court was boring and slow, something no one wants to hear nor discuss. My time there however was far more... interesting.

When I reached court, the first face I saw was my sister's. Mary was standing by the gates of Whitehall Palace, shifting from foot to foot. She wore a heavy purple cloak, probably wolf fur, and the snow that was falling clung to her hair. My twin grinned at the sight of me. I waved at her through the window.

My carriage pulled to a stop and with Dorset's help, I hopped out. Seeing my sister after spending so much time apart was a bit of a shock to my system. She looked a bit different, but that was to be expected. Her hair had grown out, it was longer than my own now, and she'd gotten taller. Still, she maintained the fat cheeks of a young child, and the joy and admiration in her eyes when she looked at me remained. She was still my Mary.

I sped to my twin, snow flying up behind me. To my surprise, she dropped into a curtsy as I drew closer. My brow furrowed.

"Mary," I said, "Since when have you had to curtsy to me?"

My sister pursed her lips.

"You're the Princess of Wales now- not just my sister," she muttered.

"Sister first," I corrected.

The corners of Mary's mouth twitched up. Then she straightened up again and took my hand.

"We're dining with the rest of the court tonight," she chirped. "You get to meet Lizzie!"

I raised an eyebrow but indulged her as she tugged me indoors, guards and servants trailing behind us.

"And who is this Lizzie you write of so fondly?"

"Elizabeth Boleyn! She's the youngest Boleyn daughter."

I stopped in my tracks. Mary shot me an annoyed look but I held firm. Gripping her hand tightly, I asked her to repeat what she'd just said.

"When you were at court, she never came up," my twin explained. "But after you left, I was very sad for a while. Lady Carey- Mary as she wed- and Mistress Boleyn noticed how upset I was. Before I knew it, they brought their baby sister to court to cheer me up!"

 _What the fuck?!_

How had I not heard about this earlier? I clenched my fist, the one Mary wasn't holding tightly. Thomas Boleyn had his miserable claws into my father already. Now he had to hook them into my sister?!

 _How dare he?!_

I trembled with rage. I could feel my chest beginning to heave, and the desire to strike someone or throw something crashed over me with dizzying force.

"Margaret," Mary whined, "Margaret you're not listening to me!"

My twin's voice snapped me back to reality. I glanced at her, and my fury cooled somewhat.

"Sorry," I apologized. "What were you saying?"

Mary huffed. We reached her chambers and she pushed open the doors. She sat on her bed and propped her elbows onto her thighs. She cocked her head sideways and repeated what she'd said earlier.

"I _asked_ if Ludlow was boring."

I grinned. Sidling up next to her, I threw a hand over my face and fell onto my back dramatically.

" _Yes_ ," I wailed. "I only had _classes_ , and visits to town, and _more_ classes!"

Mary gasped in horror- genuine or faked, I didn't know. She stroked my hair and kissed my cheek.

"You poor thing!" she we dissolved into a fit of giggles. We talked and talked for hours until it was time to prepare for dinner.

* * *

As I was fitted and dressed for my first appearance back at court as the Princess of Wales, my stomach clenched with nerves. I was never good with crowds- I could charm my way into someone's heart given the chance, but if too many people were looking at me at once, my insides would freeze and I'd be left with a sluggish mind and a clumsy tongue.

I was dressed in a red and white gown. A Tudor Rose was sewn onto the left side of it, a clear message for everyone to see. Flat silver shoes were slipped onto my feet, but they disappeared under the folds of my dress. A heart-shaped locket, made of gold, was loped around my neck, and a matching bracelet was attached to my left wrist.

"Gifts from Their Majesties," a servant explained.

When I was deemed presentable enough to join the rest of court, I was led precariously to a grand dining hall. As the sturdy oak doors were pushed open, I heard the conversation on the other side die.

My father, mother, and sister sat atop a dais. Father had the highest seat, obviously, and Mother the second. Mary sat in between them, with one other chair, just a smidgen higher than hers, next to her. My sister's eyes lit up when she saw me.

"Her Highness, Margaret, Princess of Wales," a steward announced. His voice rang through the room.

To the right of my parents, I could see my Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles, nestled by the side of the dais. A bit away from that sat the Boleyn and Howard clans. Upon seeing them, I frowned.

The man who must have been Mary's husband, William Carey, sat by her. Anne was a few paces away, alongside a young man who looked remarkably like her.

 _George Boleyn then._

By them sat a little girl who was a carbon copy of them. It had to be Elizabeth Boleyn. A girl who, if I hadn't been reincarnated, would not have existed.

I realized that I must look crazy just standing in the center of the room, staring. I walked steadily to my parents, doing my best to ignore my sweaty palms and the weight of everyone's eyes on me. I curtsied before my family. My father spared me a brief smile and helped me onto the dais. Then I took my seat.

Just like that, everyone returned to what they were doing before my arrival. The quiet hum of conversation filled the hall, but I could still see numerous eyes lingering on me.

"How was your trip to court, Margaret?" my father asked. Even as he spoke to me, his gaze flitted to Mary Boleyn.

"It was infernally boring," I said before I could stop myself.

Mother raised an eyebrow at me, her expression a mix of amusement and disapproval. Father let out a short laugh.

"Yes," he agreed. "Traveling can often seem slow."

"Your tutors tell me you've been excelling in mathematics," Mother chimed in. My chin lifted at the note of pride in her voice.

"It comes easiest to me, Mother."

Mary looked frustrated.

"Please," she said, "Enough talk of classes. We should celebrate Margaret's return!"

Mother and Father gave her indulgent smiles. Then we all turned our attention to the musicians who had began to preform before us and enjoyed our food.


	26. Chapter 24

_**A/N: I am so, so sorry for not updating sooner! Life has piled on top of me, both with school and sports, and I also got grounded for a while- my mother's fury is**_ _ **definitely**_ _ **nothing to be scoffed at. That being said, I hope you're not all too angry with me. Since my high school's soccer season will be over soon, I should be able to get more chapters out!**_

* * *

A few hours after the feast, I twisted around in my bed. My head was full of thoughts, each one going at a hundred miles per hour. Now that the euphoria of being reunited with my family had worn off, I was focused back on the consequences my absence at court had brought.

I took out a quill, inkpot, and pad of parchment from my desk and moved closely to the window. I had to be quiet, so as not to wake up the woman who watched over me while I slept. I drew open a curtain, sliding into the space between it and the ledge, and set the inkpot down. I sat against the wall and opened up the parchment, smiling as my eyes adjusted to the dim light the moon and stars offered. Then I dipped my quill and began to write.

I hadn't been able to keep close contact with Anne Boleyn. We'd managed to exchange a letter or two, but nothing that would cement or keep whatever progress I'd made towards her. I had, however, gained Fitzroy's adoration. Assuming he lived past seventeen, he would be a useful asset.

Mary was close friends with Elizabeth Boleyn, so she had undoubtedly spent more time with Anne and Mary than I had, and she would have potential to become a mole in their family if need be.

Uncle Charles was fond of me, and so was Aunt Mary, but I needed more than just them as allies. Besides, if it came to it, my uncle would choose my father every time. Perhaps with hesitation, or guilt, but he would do it. My aunt would give him hell for supporting Father when he tried to throw away Mother, but she, in the end, was a woman in a time where she would be told to sit down and shut up.

I needed an adult ally who was both prominent in court, but also not steadfastly loyal to my father. Dorset liked me, and he was important- wealthy and a descendant of Elizabeth Woodville to boot, but he was getting to be an old man. His son, Henry, was only five years old at the moment.

Reginald Pole would get his family killed, but he was favored by my father as of now. If I could somehow get him to _not_ provoke the King to execute his entire family, he might provide a useful ally- especially since he was staunchly Catholic, and supported my mother.

After another two hours of drafting out pros and cons of my new position as the Princess of Wales, and trying to determine good, local allies, I gave up. It was _late_ now, probably around two in the morning, and Mary wanted me to meet Elizabeth Boleyn tomorrow. Well, today actually.

Carefully, I stepped away from the curtains. I winced as they rustled. Stepping around where my guardian was resting, I didn't dare to breathe. I climbed onto my bed, and froze as it creaked. She twitched, but didn't stir. I would have sighed with relief, but I didn't want to wake her.

Once on my bed, I hesitated. Where should I put my parchment? Paper trails got people all the time, and I didn't want to be added to that list. I decided to shove it between the bedpost and the wall for now until I could find a better hiding spot, and then burrowed myself in my blankets. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

When I woke back up, it was at the gentle prodding of the servant who watched over me.

"Rise, Your Highness," she said. "You must eat breakfast, and the Princess Mary has requested your company today." I groaned weakly and covered my eyes when she threw back the curtains. She looked at me sternly. "Now, none of that! You've got a busy day ahead of you!"

She half dragged me out of bed, and dressed me in a green gown quickly before brushing my hair and sending me to my sister's rooms for breakfast.

I stumbled the whole way there, and if it weren't for the guards accompanying me, I would have sworn like a sailor. Mary's chambers weren't that far away from mine, which was good, but with as exhausted as I was, the trip seemed like a mile long run.

Her doors were opened ceremoniously as my presence was announced. I stepped into the main area of my twin's room, where she was already seated with Elizabeth Boleyn. They weren't eating and no food was at the table, so I assumed they'd been waiting for me.

When Mary caught sight of me, she grinned. Rising to her feet, she embraced me warmly and kissed my cheek. Elizabeth Boleyn stood as well and curtsied deeply. I nodded to her, and took in her features. As I've stated before, Elizabeth- or Lizzie, I suppose, since that was what she went by apparently, was almost a carbon copy of her elder sister. She had long dark hair that spilled over her shoulders, long eyelashes, and a small nose and full mouth. Her dark eyes her curious as she looked at me when she rose.

"Hello," I said. "I'm Margaret. My sister has told me a lot about you."

She smiled.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Your Highness," she replied.

"Likewise. But I must ask: would you prefer to go by Lizzie, or Elizabeth?"

The youngest Boleyn child shot a brief glance at Mary.

"Lizzie will do, Your Highness."

She didn't seem overly enthusiastic about the nickname. Her brief glance told me she hadn't wanted to hurt my sister's feelings, and I hid a smile. She was already growing on me. Maybe, in time, she would prove to be a worthy ally for my twin.

The food arrived, and we began to eat. Mary filled me in about all of her adventures with Lizzie, and I watched carefully as the other girl gave her a look of fond exasperation. Lizzie didn't look at my sister like she was a friend though- not exactly, but more of an older sister.

"How old are you again, Lizzie?" I asked.

"Eight, Your Highness."

"Just Margaret is fine."

Eight, huh? Children were so funny sometimes. The little Boleyn was only a couple of years older than Mary, but the responsibility she seemed to have assumed regarding Mary was in character for that of an older child watching a younger one. It was fond, if a bit arrogant and condescending. I could certainly feeling that way about my younger brother in my first life.

Mary, Lizzie and I spent the remaining part of the day together. My twin's friend certainly impressed me in that time. She was an intelligent little girl, bright like her elder sister, and kind. She was good to Mary, and although adventurous, clearly the more mature of the pair. As far as children went, she would serve to keep my sister safe. When she was older, if Mary could keep her friendship, she would be a useful ally.

That night, as I went to bed, I took out my parchment.

 _Elizabeth Boleyn,_ I wrote, _Youngest Boleyn child. Friend of my sister. Goal: keep their relationship strong throughout the years and sway her to our side in the case that Anne Boleyn is the one who Father falls for. Keep her close to Mary, and as away from her other family besides Anne as possible._

And just like that, what I called _Project L_ was set in motion.


	27. Chapter 25

_**A/N: First off to my amazing reviewers: thank you so much for sticking by me! You reviews mean the world to me (I read every single on one them).**_

 _ **Some of your questions will be answered in this chapter, I promise, although you might just have to kill me for the cliffhanger ;)**_

 _ **And to Child of Dreams: Yes, Margaret and Mary are identical twins :)**_

* * *

My life- and my plans- changed dramatically on December 25, 1522.

It was Christmas Day, dear reader, as I'm sure you can tell by the date, and I was burrowed in my blankets as I wrote on my parchment. Since I'd met Lizzie, I'd found a good place to hide my notes; several of my learning books were contained in my trunks, as I kept them with me during my time at court in case I got bored. One of the books, the one on mathematics, had a sleeve imbedded in it which held space for papers. Seeing as how there were already articles there, I simply put my plans safely in the middle of preexisting ones.

Suddenly the doors to my chambers burst open, and my head snapped towards them. There, Mary stood, still in her night dress, with a purple cloak hanging over her shoulders. Lizzie, the poor dear, looked exhausted beside her.

I shoved my papers under me and glared at my sister.

"What are you doing here!" I snapped. The fear of my notes being discovered, as well as my surprise at her sudden arrival, sparked an irritation in me, which bled into my voice. My sister's broad smile slipped slightly, but she recovered swiftly.

"It's Christmas time, silly!" she replied. "We have presents to open!"

She approached me and tried to pull me out of bed. I scowled, my left hand still gripping my parchment. The woman who cared for me, who had awoken with the commotion, watched on in amusement. Mary's attention was, naturally, drawn to what I was trying to hide. Her eyes widened, as did her mischievous smile.

"What are you writing?" she teased. "A love letter?"

I choked.

"Mary! God, no!"

She laughed and tried to pull the notes out of my grasp. My right hand gripped her wrist tightly.

"Mary," I warned, "Leave my parchment be."

I, in my fatigue, expected my twin to do as she was told. But my sister was six years old, and didn't know when she should stop pushing her limits yet. She continued to tug. With each moment her insistence mounted, and so did my fear. And then, my emotions got the better of me.

 _"Enough!"_ I snarled. Mary blinked at me, her face a mask of shock. This was the first time, after all, that I had raised my voice at her. Oh, I'd gotten annoyed before, and been peevish, but I'd never _shouted._ Then her eyes began to water and she sniffled.

 _Oh God, no._

"Mary," I began. "I'm so-"

"It's alright," she interrupted. "If you don't want us here, we'll leave."

Her voice trembled. I glanced away guiltily, and met Lizzie's eyes. The youngest Boleyn looked somewhat troubled, her dark gaze heavy as she wrung her hands together.

"Come on, Mary," she eventually said. "We'll go get breakfast, and then Margaret will join us later. Right now she's just grumpy. We startled her after all."

Lizzie led my twin out of my chambers and I stared after them awkwardly. Before they completely disappeared from my line of sight, Lizzie looked back. She glanced at the parchment in my hands, and my grip tightened. Her eyes narrowed with curiosity, and her brow creased to form a frown. Then she dipped her head slightly and walked out of the doors.

My guardian tried to comfort me once they were gone.

"So, what _is_ the parchment, Your Highness?" she joked.

"My diary," I responded. And it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't a truth.

* * *

At breakfast, Mary was stoic. Our parents weren't eating with us- Father was probably still asleep, and Mother was in prayer. The atmosphere was tense, with my sister and myself sitting at opposite ends of the table and Lizzie between us. She seemed to be lost in thought. Her fork clattered against her plate in a steady pattern, and she curled a lock of her hair around her index finger.

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, niiiine._

I frowned; the rhythm sounded vaguely familiar. Had she played it before? Clearing my throat, I asked her exactly that question. Lizzie regarded me for a moment, her eyes glazed.

"Aye," she said. "I was humming it once as we sewed. I'm sorry if it annoyed you, Margaret."

She played with the remaining food on her plate, and the sudden paleness to her face worried me.

"Lizzie," I said, "Maybe you should go and rest."

Mary, who was still bitter with me, practically leapt out of her seat.

"I'll take her to my chambers," my twin offered. Her friend shook her head.

"I can walk there on my own, Your Highnesses." She stood up, her expression tight. Mary, perhaps still timid after my snapping at her, didn't protest. I, on the other hand, was not. I began to stand, but the Boleyn raised her hand. Something in her gaze compelled me to sit back down. A bit absurd that I was listening to an eight year old, but, believe it or not, I actually did.

Lizzie curtsied and made her exit, swaying a bit, and left Mary and I to ourselves.

* * *

Breakfast, which was already awkward, grew increasingly more painful without the buffer that was Lizzie. After a while of not looking at my twin and playing with my food, I stood up.

"I'll be returning to my chambers now," I said, "But I'll visit you later."

Mary either didn't hear me or didn't bother to acknowledge me, and I was leaning towards the second option. With a confusing mixture of guilt and irritation in my heart, I exited the little room we'd been dining in.

I made my way to my own lodgings, where I would have some privacy. My night guardian should have vacated the space by now, and I'd have the chance to relax and calm down.

I reached the doors, and pushed them open.

I froze at the sight which greeted me.

The covers of my bed, which had been made again before I left, were strewn across the floor. The bookcases and nightstand beside it had been shoved sideways, drawers slipping from their places. My trunks had all been emptied, their contents making a colorful ocean of books and clothing across the room.

At the center of all this chaos stood Lizzie.

Before I had the chance to get angry, she'd stalked up to me. The youngest Boleyn thrust something in my face, her eyes wild. My heart dropped to my stomach as I realized what the object was; my notes. Lizzie advanced upon me, gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt. She kept up her pressure until I was up against the wall.

"Wait," I said, and my voice sounded weak even to my own ears, "I can explain."

I expected Lizzie to spit at my feet- to call me a witch or a demon, or a servant of the devil. What came out of her mouth terrified me even more.

 _"I knew it,"_ she hissed. "I _knew_ you were like me!"


	28. MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT

Dear readers,

Hello to all of you! First off, I just want to say that I'm so grateful to all of you for travelling on this amazing journey that has been _Thorns_ with me. That being said, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I'm not at all happy with how this story is progressing. I know that I can do better.

So as of now, I'm announcing a total rewrite of _Thorns_. The plot will be completely different. Don't worry- Margaret will still be a thing, as well as historical characters. But the pacing, writing, and plot will be a lot better.

Hope you all understand!

With affection,

Dawn


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